


Showing Him The Ropes

by Cobalt_sugar_punch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Female Reader, Finger Sucking, First Time, Foreplay, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gentle Dom, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Romantic Fluff, Short Reader, Shyness, Size Difference, Size Kink, Soft Top, big dick, bottom muriel, he has no idea what to do and is delighted to take instruction, reader is experienced and Muriel is not, romantic sex, they're 5'1"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt_sugar_punch/pseuds/Cobalt_sugar_punch
Summary: “Is this okay my love?” You pressed light kisses to his collarbone. It was as high as you could reach easily; he towered over you even when you were seated on his thighs. He still hadn’t moved but to loosely hug you. You sat back and traced a finger down his jaw, over the prickle of stubble, to coax him into looking at you. The hand stayed there and cupped his cheek as he bent to face you, a glaze over his eyes. “Hmmm?” you asked. “Do you like this?” Muriel nodded, still hypnotised. “Tell me verbally please darlin-” “Yesss,” he half cut you off with the plea. It pulled an adoring grin across your mouth and a mischievous, restrained glint into your eye. “Excellent,” you purred.
Relationships: Apprentice & Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	Showing Him The Ropes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I’m a hardcore Muriel simp, because there’s nothing better than a boy that can kill you but is soft and loving with that ✨one person✨. Ah I figured that there were other people out there that want to kiss his cheeks but also dom the fuck out of the beautiful man, so I’m posting.  
> This is set right after that scene in when he drags the Apprentice to the woods and gathers them flowers and looks like an angel when he says he loves them and y'all have a fantastic kiss.  
> I also want to be dwarfed by him so Reader is very small,  
> Happy thirsting!

(This is your visualizer)

(Swipe to the right on mobile to see it correctly)

The pair of you walked back from the forest hand-in-hand. With him literally being 6’10” to your 5’1”, you had to angle your arm to hold hands properly, but that wasn’t going to stop you. After his blushing declaration and the following kiss, the bubbling joy in your gut demanded physical contact of any sort. His rough, callused hand swallowed your small one. 

The trees hid the stars and whatever thin light they would have shed on the path. It forced you to stay close to him and move slowly, in order to not twist an ankle on a root or in a hole. (It’s not like you were ignoring your abilities to summon a light in order to stay close to him and take longer on the way back. That would be ridiculous.) You clung to your lover’s thick, toned arm and half leaned on him, in a fit of affection. A good thing that you did, because in being so absorbed in your newly-confessed love, you stepped straight in a gopher hole and managed to not fall only by your hold on Muriel. It didn't throw him off balance even though he wasn’t paying half his attention to you already, the other half to the obscured path; you were so small to him it didn't matter.

His other ridiculously large hand flew up to your shoulder to steady you. “Are you good?” he inquired. “Oh, yeah, just, half-falling, it’s okay,” you murmured with a wince, letting go of him to disentangle your foot from the hole. You had managed to jam it in with the force of your body weight and twist it at an extremely uncomfortable angle. It took a few seconds to carefully pull out of the hole, and your ankle protested if you tried to put weight on it. You finally summoned a candle-strength ball of light and held it over your ankle to inspect. No bones sticking out or anything dramatic, you would definitely be fine after a while, but it still hurt like a bitch. You stood anyway, making the light ball big enough to illuminate the pair of you and funneling it to highlight the ground ahead, and made it three limping steps when a squeak of pain escaped your clenched jaw. Muriel watched you take the steps and scooped you up in his arms princess style before you could take the fourth. Your breath caught in your throat as his rich green eyes looked into your own, full of amusement and care. A blush painted his cheeks, but it didn’t seem like he had any regret for the move.

“C’mon, put me down,” you protested weakly. “No way,” he chuckled, already moving towards the encampment. The press of his solid arms into your flesh was making it hard to formulate a response. He was so warm. “I can walk, and I’ll slow us down if you carry me.” “You’ll slow us down more walking like that. And it hurts you. You’re not heavy enough to be a burden.” There wasn’t really a response for that because he was right. You grumbled slightly about it and leaned up the best you could to kiss the tip of his nose, in thanks. It prompted another wave of colour to cross his cheeks and he started to stutter. 

“W-What was _that_ about?” By the Empress, he was adorable. “It was a thank you,” you smirked. “Shouldn’t you focus on where you’re stepping? I can’t carry you if you get hurt, y’know.” Muriel huffed and looked ahead as prompted. Your smirk softened and you leant against his chest, lulled by the sway of his steps. Did he always smell this good? You would need to be carried in his arms more often.

The walk to the encampment was over before you knew it. Your impromptu carriage stepped onto the sparse grass in front of his hut and clumsily fumbled at the front door handle while still holding you. You wiggled for him to release you. “Come on, we’re here now, let me down.” He glanced at you doubtfully. “Can you walk?” “Yes,” you lied. The ex-gladiator tipped you gently onto your feet, hands out in case you fell. You stood tall (as tall as you could at least) with all your weight on one foot. Muriel was unconvinced. “Take a step,” he ordered. There was no winning this game, but you were going to try anyway, opening your mouth to counter that it was okay when- “Muriel! Y/n!” 

Asra jogged up from the clumps of tents, waving. He stopped at the door and ran a hand through his pearlescent fluff. “I came to tell you that Nadia is going to be conducting war business in one of her officer’s tents instead of your hut, but,” he waved at hand at the both of you already at the house, “I guess you already knew that?” “No,” Muriel assured, “I was just getting a wrap for your clumsy apprentice.” You threw him a playfully disgruntled look. He hid a small smile as he unlocked the door. Asra looked you up and down and noticed your awkward stance. “What did you do, y/n?” You huffed in mock irritation. “Why do you think it’s my fault? Maybe I won a terrible battle with a werebear, at cost to my leg?” “It was a battle with a hole in the dark, and a loss.” Muriel tossed the interruption over his shoulder as he shuffled with the contents of a chest inside. “I see,” Asra chuckled. “I know you’re in good hands, y/n, so I’ll be off, Nadia wanted me there for conferencing. Sleep well you two.” He raised a hand in farewell as he walked back into the mess of tents and out of sight.

You experimented with a few steps on your way inside. It wasn’t as bad as in the forest but it wasn’t painless yet. That was okay. The light ball bobbed around your head like a planet in orbit as you hobbled and made it to the bed without making any noises of pain, and watched your sort-of boyfriend stand with a small roll of cloth in hand. He sat down beside you, making the mattress dip, and gently pulled your leg into his lap. A flick of your wrist sent the ball to light his work. “Tell me if any of this hurts.” His scarred hands were slow and methodical as he pulled off your shoes and wrapped your ankle stiffly. If there were twinges of pain, you didn’t feel them, mesmerised by watching him work as though you were delicate and valuable. He got to the end of the cloth and tied it securely with a little knot. “There, it’s done.” He startled you out of your reverie and stood, crossing the room to rekindle and feed logs onto the lazily smoking embers in the fireplace.

You threw yourself backwards on the bed with a flop. It would have shook the bed frame if it were built for someone besides Muriel. A part of your brain scolded for relaxing when you should help. But you would be pushed back down if you tried to help anyway, you reasoned.

It wasn’t the most padded mattress, but passable. You twisted to lay comfortably. The worn-soft blankets were cozy to the touch, and they practically begged you to wrap up in them. You obliged, getting a nice cocoon going by the time Muriel turned around from a decent sized fire. He chuckled at the sight of a mound of blankets peeping at him, eyes reflecting the flames. “Comfortable?”

You pulled the blankets down over your head and sealed the fabric cave shut. “Quite.” More laughter was the response, coupled with, “Good.” He kicked off his boots, which clunked onto the floor, and various belts clacked as he removed those too. You heard the sliding open and shut of a drawer. He crossed to lock the front door with a click before opening the chest on the floor again. You poked your head out of the blankets curiously. “What’re you doing?” The sight of his scarred back, rippling with muscles, suffused a hot blush to cover the apples of your cheeks. The only thing on him was his gray pants.

Muriel turned from the chest with a spare blanket, shaking it out. “Just laying down.” He laid the scrappy material in front of the fireplace.

You were immediately indignant. “Absolutely not.” He threw you a puzzled glance. “Absolutely not! This is your house, and your bed. If you don’t want to sleep with me then I’ll take the floor.” You swung your feet off the bed to stand to make good on your promise. It would have been more impressive if you didn’t try to walk and then give a little cry of pain at putting full weight on your forgotten, not-recovered ankle. He was guiding you back to the bed in an instant and sitting by your side. The mattress flexed at the additional weight. “This is why you take the bed,” Muriel chided softly. It didn’t alter your resolve. “I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor in your own house.” He tilted his head quizzically. “Why not? I’ve been through worse than sleeping in front of a fire, in a house where I feel safe.” Hair fell in front of your eyes as you shook your head determinedly. You tucked it back and retorted, “If sleeping with me is so bad, I’m taking the floor.”

The beautiful green eyes shifted, looking down and away. “I-I’m not s-saying it would be bad….” He cautiously took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your palm. It made it much harder to focus on his next sentence, “... but we’d be h-half on top of each other, it’s not that wide.” You smirked and gently turned his face to look at you directly. “You’re telling me you _don’t_ want to be that close? I hope I don’t have one-sided feelings.” Muriel’s countenance turned a deep red and his lips parted surprisedly. There was a longing magnetism holding his gaze to yours even though he was clearly completely unprepared for that. 

The uptick of your mouth only grew, and a laugh broke out of your chest despite how you tried to suppress it. “Come hold me,” you invited, arms spread wide for a hug. His grip on your hand tightened, but he was still frozen looking at you. The shyness from the man you loved only made the wave of adoration crash over you harder. You pulled yourself into his lap and crushed your face into the crook of his neck. The unevenly cut black hair smelled like myrrh and sunshine, and you deftly undid the braid holding it back, stroking through it. That delicious smell wafted in faint waves as you finger-combed. He was perceptibly breathless, hands coming up to your back in awe and touching without pressure, like if he hugged you to his chest, you would crack.

“Is this okay my love?” You pressed light kisses to his collarbone. It was as high as you could reach easily; he towered over you even when you were seated on his thighs. He still hadn’t moved but to loosely hug you. You sat back and traced a finger down his jaw, over the

prickle of stubble, to coax him into looking at you. The hand stayed there and cupped his cheek as he bent to face you, a glaze over his eyes. “Hmmm?” you asked. “Do you like this?” Muriel nodded, still hypnotised. “Tell me verbally please darlin-” “ _Yesss_ ,” he half cut you off with the plea. It pulled an adoring grin across your mouth and a mischievous, restrained glint into your eye. “Excellent,” you purred.

Pushing yourself up, you brushed his lips in a delicate kiss, once, twice. His eyes slid shut and he kissed you back on the third, just as softly, arms finally tightening around you. A groan escaped your throat and you couldn’t help but slip your tongue in between his plush lips. Muriel let out a quick, aborted sound at the new touch. It made your eyes roll back in your head and you clutched his face with both hands now, exploring his willing mouth and swiping your tongue through, teasing his own tongue. He let you lead with only the shallowest reciprocations, but the more you did and the further back you went, the more he melted. Only after a bit of time did the inexperienced man probe cautiously past your lips, learning by example. He was bent half double to meet your demanding mouth. That had to be uncomfy. 

You gently bit his bottom lip as you ended the kiss, sliding your teeth across the sensitive flesh and releasing to let it spring back. Another trick he was unprepared for, if his shallow, guttural moan said anything. The both of you were lightly panting as you tapped on his shoulder to lean back, saying “It’ll be more comfortable for you to lay down.”

And you had thought he couldn’t get any redder. “Again, darling, only if you want to.” Muriel covered your hands with his own after a short moment and took a steadying breath, in and out. “I d-do want to. Very much. I-It’s just a lot….” “Slower then,” you immediately promised. “We can slow down.”

He held onto your hips and shifted on the bed, laying flat in the center of it and moving you with him. Your eyes widened as you notched against the sizable bulge in the front of his pants. Up to this point you had been so focused on the kiss that the growing evidence of his excitement had gone unnoticed. How were you going to take _that_? He tightened his mouth to quash an instinctive response to how you were sitting. “Please…” -your eyes snapped up to meet his- “…please keep going.” That was all the confirmation you needed. You crawled up and met his mouth again, seated on his abs (he didn’t appear to mind in the slightest) and stroking through his choppy, thick hair, being sure to moderate the pace. Muriel breathed out a relaxed sigh as you took control of the kiss and clasped his hand above his head, lacing fingers together and pressing into the pillow to support yourself. The mild restraint could have been escaped in an instant if he had cared to; the thought didn’t cross his mind. He still had a free hand though. And if he was too shy to use it, that was okay. This was about him and what he wanted.

It was minutes later that you ventured to unravel your hand from his inky tresses, tracing it down his defined jaw, vulnerable throat, the sloping muscles of his chest, and skipped straight to grab his loosely curled fist. There was a fluidness of trust to how Muriel let you guide him to cupping a palmful of your breast over your shirt. His breath quivered slightly as he exhaled against your mouth. And a tremor showed up in the cradling hand. You stroked the back of his hand soothingly and transitioned the kiss to peppering little pecks on his nose and cheeks. He most definitely would have hidden his face from you if both hands weren’t otherwise captured. As it was, he turned to face the side in the mildest form of dodging your ministrations. “You can always tell me no, Muriel. No matter what.” He shook his head, shy and blushing like a rose but still eager. A game was rapidly forming, of you pushing past his mild, residual resistance and him reassuring you verbally to continue.

Muriel clarified his turning away- “I haven’t ever done this, ‘s’all. It’s new.”

The gears in your brain ground to a halt. New. New to him. The hulking, caring, asocial man underneath you hadn’t ever had anyone before. Or been had by them. It made sense, and you felt dumb for not putting it together before, but the realization signalled a flicker of arousal to your cunt. He swallowed nervously at your pause. Worried eyes met your out of focus ones. "Is that… okay?" You channeled your excitement into a fierce kiss in lieu of an answer. He whimpered surprisedly as you smashed your lips into his, taking a few seconds to process the words spoken into his mouth- “No - _kiss-_ problem - _kiss_ \- at _all_.” It stoked the flames in his own gut as he eagerly took everything you gave him.

The hand cupping your tit squeezed gently when you pressed yourself closer, already so primed that your nipple stiffened instantly against the friction of his rough palm. “Under- touch under- the shirt,” you gasped out. He obeyed, with a roll of your nipple between his thick fingers that turned your stomach molten. Immediately you sat up and set the hand you had been holding on the other clothed breast. Muriel hesitated for a split second. “...Take off your shirt?” The shirt was whipped off and his raised hands pressed full as you leaned into his touch. A heavy lidded, sex-drunk look pervaded his face as Muriel tenderly started to play with them, squishing gently and stroking the soft skin with callus-textured fingers. He thumbed up your sensitive bud and you bit back a moan. The stimulation had heat running from his touch through your whole torso and made your clit demand pressure so much that you ground down on his solid abs. Slick had soaked through your cotton underwear and was working on showing through your pants.

It practically hurt, how turned on you were. You could smell it, and so could he, but despite Muriel’s glances at the apex of your legs with curiosity and desire, he kept paying gentle attention to the breasts in his hands, as directed. Allowing yourself a tiny bit of impatient neediness, you took him by the wrist slow enough that he could resist if he chose and slid his massive hand underneath you. He froze, the pads of his fingers pressed into damp fabric and no idea what to do next. You ground down on him and he instinctively curled them, into the hollow formed by fabric over your hole. It was tantalizing, pressure where you needed it but restricted. Your fingers scrabbled at the ties of your waistband and you awkwardly stood, to shove off the pants and flick them to the floor, and dropped down to sit back on his bulge, rubbing your ass on it slightly and guiding his hand back to breach you.

Muriel's mouth dropped open in a hoarse, little excited moan as his fingers parted the slick curls, dick twitching, teased with the pressure and enthralled with the new texture. He was panting shallowly as he stroked up the wet skin, along your slit, and you shuddered out a quiet sigh when the tip slipped in. It couldn’t be helped but to rock your hips and take it further, soothing the ache that had started to drive you crazy. He pushed in slowly up to the knuckle and you gave a little broken cry. “A-Another,” you managed. He obliged, and your vision fuzzed on the edges, muscles stretching with delicious sting to take the extra digit after not nearly enough riding yet. If this was how good his fingers felt, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Is it too much?” Muriel breathed out. It took effort to focus your eyes and look at him. He looked close to as fucked out as you felt, incredible when you hadn’t touched him yet; heavy-lidded eyes and skin glowing cherry toned, mouth open like he wanted something in it. There was an idea, actually. You fashioned as close to an innocent, radiant smile as you could when riding your boyfriend’s fingers and reached out to cradle his cheek with one hand. “It’s _fantastic_ ,” you purred, and ran a thumb along his kiss-swollen lips before pressing past them. Blown out green eyes widened and stared at you with something akin to worship, as the pad of your thumb petted his tongue. He sucked a vacuum around it and sent shivers down your arm. They arced all the way to your throbbing, neglected clit.

"Can you…" Taking hold of his wrist between your thighs, you pumped it in and out to show him what you wanted, matching the rhythm already established when you had started to bump up and down, because words were cumbersome and heavy on your tongue right now and it was easier to show him. Muriel stayed at the set pace when you let go, eyes still locked on your face. It was all you could do to hold his gaze when the stroking of his rough hand caressed your insides and stole your breath for a moment. “Do like a…” you made the motion with your own free hand, a sort of _come here_ gesture. “Stroke towards yourse-” He had already complied, rubbing along the sensitive, spongy patch of flesh and cutting off your sentence. An undignified rush of air forced itself out in a huff and you leant forward to prop yourself on his chest. A bashful, delighted smile quirked Muriel’s mouth, which was still dutifully laving over your thumb, and his dick twitched against your ass. In all the excitement of guiding the former recluse through his first handjob, you had almost grown accustomed to the bulge poking you, ignoring it. That just wasn’t fair.

You sat up enough to reach behind you and trace it with a fingertip, going from base to head and teasing a little circle on the wet patch there. His mouth around your finger dropped open a bit in surprise before regaining composure, and clamped shut when you seized his whole girth in a tight fist; he hovered on the edge of biting you and shuddered out a gravelly groan. It was a tighter grasp than you had planned because your fingertips didn’t meet around his shaft, and you didn’t realize it in the first second. The concept made your head swim a fraction. If you were going to take that, a ground-breaking orgasm was in order, to loosen up enough. Or a _lot_ of fingering and soft licking. Muriel would probably enjoy your cum squirted all over his chin, though.

“Baby,” you said sweetly, removing your digit from his mouth and pulling his hand out of your sopping cunt by the wrist, “let me sit on your face?” His fingers connected to the dark curls by a shiny string of slick. "Ahhhmm…" You met his eyes inquisitively. The gaze he gave you was clearly excited, but apprehensive. "... Will you tell me what to do?" You beamed. "Absolutely."

You moved up to be straddling his head, covering his mouth and nose, hovering over him, leaving his wide eyes to meet yours with askance and awe. Muriel audibly inhaled through the nose, making you a fraction self conscious before he instinctively leaned up and licked a gentle stripe up your slit. That banished the worry pretty quickly, and you sank lightly down on his eager mouth, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "That's it darling, perfect. Lick me like that." He started using wide strokes with a flattened tongue, eliciting a melting warmth. You gripped his hair a little tighter and rocked your hips lightly to hit the pace you needed, faster than communicating it to him and taking control of your own pleasure. Muriel's hands slid up and anchored you to him. Thick fingers grasped the top of your hips and held you down, out of tender clinginess more than any necessity; you weren’t moving away until you were satisfied.

Light moans started to fall from your lips as it hit exactly where you needed it. “Baby try to… focus on the, clit,” you gasped out. The energetic licks curled around your swollen nerve center and sent tremors up through your body; your eyes rolled back in your skull and fluttered on the edge of closing. A gravelly moan rumbled between your thighs and vibrated against your clit. You shuddered, and met his eyes with a hand still resting tensely in his black locks. He looked back at you with an adoring, drunken energy. Petting his hair back from the brow, you started gently crooning and praising him.

"Baby that's so good that's… where I need it… yessss…. Like that… you're doing perfect…." The wet sounds of his ministrations added an extra layer to the experience. A distinct spike of pleasure sent a full body shudder through you, and your focus went to rocking your hips a little faster, rubbing to get that high again. The gentle hand petting his hair switched back to a tethering grip, to hold you down to earth and hold him steady as a toy to chase your pleasure with. It coaxed another guttural moan from his chest and a following hot twist in your gut at the gorgeous noise. All you had the mental clarity to do was grind against his outstretched, flattened tongue, and mumble encouragement.

Time lost meaning. The only thing in the world was your happily subservient lover and the pleasure he let you take. Every time you got close to a peak, you slowed to let it settle down, and let Muriel kiss and lick up the slippery mess. Then when your breathing had steadied and you weren’t about to cum at any hard pressure, you took off faster again and used him as you pleased. Was that mean? Maybe, but he was so much better than you could have guessed, and he never protested, even when you whispered to him that it was okay to ask for a break or to stop, that you understood if his jaw was tired. He was determined to make you happy in the way that you saw fit, and shook his head wordlessly (unintentionally making you shiver with the friction of his stubble) when you offered. Muriel devotedly gave little kitten licks during pauses and sucked up the slick that would have ran down his cheeks otherwise, swallowing like it was a holy gift. It took until a cramp seized the muscle in your flank for you to stutter to a painful halt and end the cycle, whimpering in light distress.

The hands wrapped around your hips started to pet the skin, reddened by pressure, instead of gripping them, and Muriel’s loving eyes questioned you without words. Were you alright? Should he continue? You took a deep breath to ease the already fading pain. But it wouldn’t do to just trigger it again. “Can you finish me off love?”

Muriel smiled with his eyes, and you felt his mouth follow suit against your skin before he started suckling gently on your clit. He paced it up faster and made an almost mean vacuum around you in no time. It made your thighs quiver uncontrollably. Bent forward, hunched over him as you choked out the most pitiful, pleased whines.

It seemed to trigger something animalistic in him, and a broken, desperate noise vibrated through your body from his mouth. Muriel clutched at you and worked like he was emotionally invested in making you cum. This wasn’t the original plan. This was electric and wild and you were held solidly captive unless you tapped out. Which you by no means were going to do. In a matter of seconds your keyed up body was tensed and shaking. So close, so so so so close. Red flashed behind your screwed shut eyes as you tried to whimper out a warning.

“I...I’m-... baby-.... Close!” This was torture. So tense. So close. With titanic effort you managed to keen “I love you!” before fiery pulses spiraled in every inch of your body and the tension broke. Your hole clenched around nothing, juices squirting. Muriel lapped at the spasming folds as you quivered and whined through the fall.

The licks didn’t stop when your orgasm did, his tongue dutifully laving up the mess that coated your thighs and vulva. When it grazed the edge of your oversensitive clit, you flinched with a squeak. He reflexively tightened his grip when you moved off center like that, fully prepared to continue. “There now, darling,” you wheezed, taking his hands in your own and pulling them weakly off your hips. The cue was taken and he let you guide his hands off and free yourself.

Your body swayed in trying to swing your legs over and get off his face, to let the man take a well-deserved breath and let yourself lay back and recover. Muriel didn’t give you the chance, gently gathering your trembling form up and cuddling you like a doll. You leaned into his chest and let the warmth of his arms seep in. He was stroking your hair back from your forehead with a touch like you were made of porcelain. It made your breathing settle and the ache in your legs forgettable. 

Slow blinking, you looked up into his face. This was where all of his years of love had gone; they were bottled up to be lavished on you tonight. Tenderly petting your face, his eyes poured adoration. He brought you nose to nose with him and brushed a kiss on your mouth. A flick of the tongue against his swollen lips tasted like your release, the same fluid that was also smeared over the stubbled, rosy cheeks and down the column of his throat. “I love you too,” He murmured.

It took a minute to gather your scattered mind up and realise he was returning your cumming sentiment. A blissful smirk curved the corner of your mouth. He was so good to you, so kind, so perfect. You had never felt a love like this. It was your turn to give kitten licks and little kisses, across his face to return the attention in some form and clean up. A hand on his chin angled Muriel this way and that to get everywhere. The man’s eyes drifted half closed and he tilted his face willingly to align where you directed. Against pattern and habit, he let himself be adored and merely held you, basking in the warmth of it. There was no resistance even as you finished and started simply stroking his face. Joy swelled in your heart. The vulnerability was a bigger testament of love than everything prior.

If he could make you see stars and then let himself be caressed, you for damn sure were going to return the favour. And since you were already being held like this, it was his turn to be serviced. But you couldn’t possibly make him feel as good with your mouth as he made you feel; he was too big, it would gag you something awful if you tried to take more than the first few inches. Time to make good on the original plan then.

Sliding a hand down his sweat-glazed body and slipping under the hem of the pants he still wore, you caught the light gasp that fell from his lips with a kiss. The tension was incredible as you touched the soft skin of his lower abdomen and slid to the prickly hair at the base of his cock.

Muriel's chest stilled nervously as he watched your hand, and the vulnerable flesh flinched under the cool pads of your fingers. "Hey," you said softly. He looked up at you. "Are you ready?"

" _Please_ , y/n."

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'mma finish it, I will, I just really wanted to publish what I had.  
> See y'all for chapter two?


End file.
